


Dance of the Fireflies

by Axis (Tofu)



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-21
Updated: 2014-01-28
Packaged: 2018-01-09 13:44:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 15,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1146690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tofu/pseuds/Axis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A modern day AU about Katniss's adventures on May 21st, the day of her senior prom.</p><p>Rated T for language and for some [brief] implied themes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Small sobs could be heard coming from somewhere behind me. Even though my mother and Prim were both helping me get ready for the dance, something told me the sniffling was only coming from the elder Everdeen.

"Oh Katniss, you've grown up so fast…" She says, her voice catching somewhere in the middle of her sentence. A pair of hands untangle themselves from my hair and I hear the soft rustle of a tissue being pulled out of its box. "I'm so proud of you, dear."

I sigh, "Mom, it's really not  _that_  big. In the grand scheme of things, today's just like any other day. A bunch of school, then here's this little thing called 'Prom', but hey I'll be off to university soon. You should save your tears for the graduation ceremony. I know I'll be."

"You could really try being a  _little_  more sympathetic," Prim comments. As much as I hate to admit, my influences on her as an older sibling in conjunction with her teenage years has made its mark on Prim's formerly kind personality. She still radiates just as much as she used to, but her words occasionally drip with sassy remarks. I stick a tongue out in her general direction when she leans over to examine me from the front. "The dress does look a little better though."

My mother finishes securing loose strands of my hair with bobby pins and finalizes everything with hairspray. She holds a hand mirror in front of my face, still preoccupied with scanning my scalp for any flyaways. I hold the mirror at an angle and look back at my hair.

"If I had known you were going to do so much, I could have just gone to Cinna's to spare you the trouble," I say guiltily. I glance up at an analog clock that reads 2:46 PM, "Honestly Mom, you didn't have to your entire morning shift off just for this."

"I'm sure you can still stop by to see him. I bet he'll be able to help you with your make up too." Prim perks up at the prospect of another trip to Cinna.

"Can I go too, Mom?"

"Maybe some other time honey. You're not even going anywhere tonight," she replies. She turns toward me, analyzing my hair from the front, "I need to leave for work soon, but make sure you drop Prim off at the Hawthorne's, do you hear me? Hazelle told me Rory had a biology project to work on with Prim." I nod in understanding.

"Thanks for doing my hair and buying the dress for me, really. I'll try to make the most of tonight," I stand up and give my mother a quick hug before seeing her off.

"Sure you will." Prim mutters under her breath as our mother leaves the room.

"Shut it. Why do you guys even have a half day anyway?"

"You seniors may be done with high school, but some of the underclassmen were invited to prom as well. Clearly the board realized this and gave us a half day for the occasion."

Our district isn't particularly known for having school breaks, but I don't bother bringing that up.

"So can we go see Cinna today?"

" _I'm_  going but you heard Mom, I need to take you to Rory's."

"Fine. Give me 10 minutes," she sighs, leaving the bathroom to go and pack her backpack.

I smile and head downstairs, grabbing my keys from the small hooks by the front door. I scanned the closet and grab two pairs of shoes, a pair of white heels and a much more comfortable set of black flats. I slip my feet into the latter pair and head toward the garage, but I stop by the decorative mirror hanging in the foyer to inspect my hair once more. Sometime near the end of April, my mother took me to a hair salon she heard about at the hospital she works at. It was certainly strange, seeing her put effort into looking good again, but I suppose she was finally rising out of that puddle of depression she fell face-first into when my father died. It was a nice change, seeing smiles on her face instead of the catatonic stare that used to plague her eyes. Because it was a newer salon, she got a coupon for a "quick touchup", so she suggested to spend the short-lived coupon on me.

"Quick touchup" couldn't have been more misleading.

I don't know how they managed to work on my appearance within the confines of such a small business, but in an instant, three people were flitting around me, asking for personal preferences in hair styles, textures, colors, and accessories ranging from bows to ribbons to feathers. I had skirted my way around most of the questions, saying a simple trim and perhaps a layer of bangs across my forehead would be just fine. The shock on their faces made me wonder if I had accidentally misspoke, as if I requested to have my skin dyed hot pink. Such a simple hairstyle was not something the three of them were used to.

They had called over another stylist, who had just finished another client's transaction, and he set to work almost immediately. He, along with the male in the trio of stylists, briefly washed my hair and then set to work at evening out all the jagged ends that I've accumulated from years of cutting my own hair.

"Are you in high school?" He asked. I had glanced up to look at his face, and immediately recognized him as Cinna Marks, the stylist whose face was pasted on the flyers plastered over store windows throughout the entire town.

I attempted to nod but realized work is being done on my hair, so I opted for a brief "Yes."

"Do you go to Panem Academy?"

There really aren't that many other schools around, but I grunted another yes.

"I see. Your prom is coming up isn't it? No, Flavius, not those. Use the other pair of scissors."

I sighed, of course this would be the rave in beauty salons across the country. "Yeah, but before you ask, no. I am not going with anyone."

"Feisty aren't you? Well, we have special deals for every Friday in May, so if your prom falls on one of those dates, feel free to stop by again."

"Thanks." I was instructed to turn my head as Cinna inspected my hair. In that brief moment, something had caught my eye in a room further back, something I didn't expect to see in a mere hair salon: full-body mannequins. They were cluttered all about, some even leaning on others, but despite their poor organization, it was clear that the clothing they sported was tailored with great care. Some of the mannequins had broader shoulders donning silk suits, while others with smaller physiques were adorned with in glimmering dresses and the occasional necklace or pair of shoes.

"You can turn your head back now," the other man (Flavius?) instructed. I complied, but not before Cinna had a chance to follow my curious gaze.

"Ah. I was a fashion designer in another life," he told me. "I still have a sewing machine and extra dress material, but it's not nearly enough for a business. Not yet, at least."

I thought about the dress my mother purchased on my behalf. I liked it, but she had told me that there weren't any in my size, so she purchased something bigger in hopes that I would miraculously fit by the time prom rolled around. The lavender dress looked magnificent when I first saw it, but after slipping in to the smooth fabric, I could tell many adjustments had to be made. The bust was slightly too large and somewhat uneven and skirt that consisted of translucent material veered uncomfortable close to being almost completely transparent. I needed an underskirt of some sort, but no one in my family was in any position to make drastic changes to anything that was tailored.

"Do you think you could fix my dress?" The words were out before I was able to stop them, and I could tell by the sudden lack of hands fiddling in my hair that it was a question I shouldn't have asked. Flavius's hairdryer blows lazily in one spot, his fingers frozen in my locks.

"Sorry I shouldn't have asked that," I quickly stammered, looking down. I feel the slow movement of uneasy fingers in my hair again, but Cinna still remained silent. Too silent. I risked a glance into the mirror in front of me, where I saw Cinna flipping through a book on a counter somewhere behind me. He occasionally glanced up at a calendar pinned to the wall, and walked back in a matter of moments.

"I'll see what I can do, I have a couple things to tend to this week and springtime weekends are popular for weddings, but do you think you can come in on May 14th? Before school, if it's not too much trouble. I should have some extra hours to work before the prom rush comes in."

Just one week before our own.

"Okay." He handed me a sheet of paper with an empty size chart and an incomplete diagram of a generic female figure. Lines and letters were strewn across the page in every which way, and a cold sweat ran down my back as I struggled to make sense of it all. Maybe it would have been better if I said nothing.

* * *

I'm jerked out of my memories at the sound of Prim coming down the stairs, backpack and textbook in hand. I open the door to the garage and hop into the driver's seat of my car. Prim hands me her belongings as she sits down in her seat and murmurs a quick thanks as I give them back to her.

"So who's taking me back home?" She asks once we hit the main road.

I glance to my left as I switch lanes and then turn my attention back to Prim, "I'll talk to Mrs. Hawthorne and work something out. I think Haymitch will be taking pictures with us at Finnick's, but Effie should still be lounging around in our neighborhood if you need a ride early."

I turn in to Gale's subdivision I park along the curb in front of Gale's house and snag my keys. I hop out of the car and lead Prim up to their front door.

_-ding dong-_

"Katniss! Primrose!" Hazelle greets the two of us with warm hugs, "Come in, come in! I just baked some treats for the boys, so feel free to have some." We nod our thanks and she quickly hurries off into the kitchen after the oven suddenly beeps. I hesitate momentarily before following her to ask if she's able to drive Prim home. I sigh in relief when she responds with a smile and a yes.

"Okay Prim, make sure your phone is on and charged. If you need anything from me, just send me a text or a call and I'll try to get to you as soon as I can. Unfortunately I'll be carpooling with a friend to the dance, and my car will be at Finnick's. It might take me a while, but I'll come." I bend down to kiss her on the forehead and then turn toward the door, "Stay safe, stay in touch, and don't eat too much of their food."

I open their wooden door and immediately frown at the darkening sky. I slide back in the car and retrieve an umbrella from the center console, just in case it begins to rain, and mentally plan a route to Cinna's salon.

"The sky looks pretty nasty, doesn't it?" he says as he applies foundation to my face while one of his assistants attempt to work with the remains of my chewed up fingernails after just finishing a quick pedicure.

"Tell me about it! So much for outdoor pictures," I joke, earning a small chuckle.

"Are you excited for tonight?" He points the handle of his brush toward two girls with varsity jackets on the backs of their chairs, "Those two have been here since noon, and they seem pretty pumped." I recognize the colors on the jackets – white and red – and I realize they must be my classmates at Panem Academy. The two figures on the adjacent seats were chatting at a million miles per hour, clearly engrossed in a conversation about the dance tonight.

"Yeah I'm definitely not that excited. Why were they here for so long anyway?" I close my eyes as Cinna carefully paints eyeliner and eyeshadow onto my lids.

"They wanted jewels."

"For their dresses? Or do you mean jewelry…?"

"No and no, they wanted a net of jewels wrapped up in their hair. They were willing to pay for it, they had the gemstones with them, and I knew I could do it but that was certainly overkill." He sighs and lowers his voice, "Those two were painful to work with. They wanted to bleach their hair as well, somehow Portia and I worked it all out. So far, they've dished over quite the sum of money, but you should have seen their request for the makeup."

I glance over at the drying hoods atop their heads and squint, "You're telling me there are rubies and emeralds somewhere under those things?" Cinna nods and steps back to analyze my face, tilting my chin in one direction then the next.

"Yeah, weird isn't it? Alright, you should be good to go. I applied waterproof mascara and eyeliner by the way, because I know you'll get so emotional today." I can't tell if he's being sarcastic, but I'm not one to criticize Cinna's makeup expertise.

"Thanks for everything," I say as he nods before walking away. I turn my attention toward the woman who just finished applying a clear top coat to my French manicure and give her my card for the transaction.

I walk out of the salon and am pleasantly surprised to find that not a single drop of water had made it to the ground. I walk down the street, twirling my umbrella, and pass by a number of local stores; small businesses seem to be popular in this part of town. One of Haymitch's old friends, Beetee, opened an electronics store not too far from Cinna's salon, and the old drunk thoughtfully purchased an mp3 player on May 8th, just for me. It was a pretty shade of pine green, a "special edition" version according to Beetee, but something tells me it was more than just a device manufactured in some factory far, far away.

I lounge around in my car, waiting for my manicure to dry. Waiting for 4:30 to come. Waiting for a text from a friend. Waiting for anything at all, really. My phone suddenly hums and I fish it out of my purse, glancing at the illuminated screen.

 **MADGE U.** : What's Finnick's address?

I text a quick reply, and as the message is sending, I glance at the time.

4:26 PM

Good enough. I begin the drive to Finnick's huge mansion and eventually park my car somewhere on their monstrous driveway.

* * *

A number of people have gathered themselves inside Finnick's mansion, most of which I can only assume are family friends. A throng of teenagers cover the sandstone tiles in the kitchen, and a slightly larger group of adults chatter amongst themselves near the bar.

"What's going on here?" I ask as Finnick takes my peacoat.

"Oh. My mom's firm is having a dinner party later," he says.

"And the kids?"

"Yeah she thought it would be a good idea to tell her employees their children could take pictures here," he shrugs. "Most of them go to Capitol High. By the looks of things, you'd think we rented out the place. Jo's somewhere in kitchen eating food, but I hear she invited some friends as well. Make yourself at home, Katniss."

I try my best to comply, but my four bedroom, two-story house won't ever come close to the layout of Finnick's. The pale yellow walls are accented with photographs, paintings, and the occasional wall ornament. Wooden columns support the walkway across the second story, and directly across from the front door is a wall almost entirely made of glass. The panes easily scale 25 feet off the ground, where they eventually slope into various stained glass patterns near the top. I glance at the pea green and pale yellow couches in front of the fireplace and take a seat in them, turning my head and body to view the vast forest that envelopes the base of the hill.

As if on a hidden cue, a number of the dolled up teenagers shuffle their way over to the stairs, chatting excitedly. A ring of adults and the occasional younger sibling form a small semicircle from the base of the marble staircase and begin snapping a series of pictures. The group first smiled for a 'normal' picture, and then distorted their faces in every which way possible for a 'goofy' one. One of them mentions a limousine, and then as suddenly as they arrived, they all file out of the door and down to what I can only presume to be their ride to Capitol High's prom. The adults return to their idly chatter on and around bar stools, and I divert my gaze back to the large window.

I feel a cushion sink next to me and I turn my head to see Finnick sitting in the space next to me, leaning a little bit too close for comfort.

"Who's the lucky guy?" He asks, poking me in the elbow with his finger.

I smack his arm with the back of my hand and scowl, turning back toward the window, "Don't kid yourself, I'm going solo. We already went over this."

"Well maybe you snagged a guy sometime during the week. How would I know?" I roll my eyes and let the conversation subside. He pouts and then stands up to get something. I resume staring back out the window and soon feel the couch sink again.

"So who's your date, Finnick?" I ask after a couple minutes, glancing sideways at his hunched figure. His elbows rested on his knees, supporting the weight of his body while leaving his hands free to fiddle with a small plastic box containing a small mess of flowers and ribbons. The box stops moving and he looks back at the front door.

"Annie Cresta," he says. I turn my body toward him, giving him full view of my confused expression, "She's home schooled; she doesn't attend Panem Academy."

"What's she like?"

"Annie…? I don't even know where to begin." Finnick replies, his face relaxes into a blank expression as he tries to think of words to say. His wandering eyes freeze on a window near the front door, and his features morph into a grin that threaten to split his face in half. "I might have to get back to you on that."

I follow his eyes and spot a girl carrying an emerald green handbag while cradling the bony hand of a much older woman on the crook of her elbow. As she steps inside, her chestnut hair almost seems to shine red in the fluorescent light. The older woman, who's shorter than Annie by almost a full head, unhooks herself from Annie's elbow and waves to Finnick. Finnick thrusts the plastic box holding the corsage and boutonnière into my hand and whispers a quick "Hold this, Katniss" before running up to Annie and embracing her tightly. His white tuxedo easily muffles her laughter, and I can't prevent a small grin from spreading on my own face. He eventually steps back to get a good look at her. She's wearing a chromatic dress that ripples between turquoise, cerulean, and indigo hues. The smile on her face is mirrored by Finnick, and it's easy to see that the two are simply  _in love_.

I glance over at the elderly woman who had waddled some distance away during all this and had begun to fish through her leather bag for something. She finds it, takes a quick picture of the moment with a black DSLR camera, and then turns her head to look at me. The wrinkles on her face pinch together as a warm smile spreads on her lips, and she waves me over as well. Finnick and Annie turn their heads toward me, and he quickly begins the introductions.

"Annie, this is Katniss. She's in my physics class at Panem Academy," he declares while motioning to me. Annie holds her hand out and we shake, exchanging a quick but friendly series of greetings.

"And this," he turns toward Annie's guest, "is Mags. She's Annie's caretaker, but they're not related by blood."

I hold out my hand toward her and worry that any sudden grip might shatter her fragile bones, but I almost gasp at the vigor in her own shake. I had severely underestimated her. Mags' eyes twinkle in realization, and I breathe an uneasy laugh as I massage my knuckles behind my back. She turns toward Annie and mumbles something I can't quite catch. Annie's candy apple green eyes widen a fraction of an inch and she turns toward Finnick. He smiles and then looks at me. What did I do this time?

"Mags wants to take some pictures," Finnick starts, glancing down at my hands. I look down and realize I'm still holding the small plastic box. I fumble with the lid and hold out the two bundle of flowers and watch as the trio walks over to another section of the mansion to take pictures near a huge painting of a greenhouse.

"Hey brainless," I turn around at the voice and see Johanna Mason's signature smirk. Before I can blurt out a sarcastic remark about her dresses as of late, she cuts me off.

"Yeah I know I've had some nasty fallouts at homecoming, but this dress is probably one of the better ones," She spins in a small circle and then stops to look at me, "Nice face, by the way. Did Cinna do it?"

I nod as Johanna walks over to one of the green armchairs. I sit on a square hassock and turn my attention toward her.

"Oh yeah, I hope you don't mind that I invited one of my friends to dinner with us," Johanna says.

"No, not at all. What's their name?"

"Clove Newton. I met her at the fall Renaissance Fair while I was working at an axe-throwing booth. She was manning the knife-throwing station and that's when I found out she went to our school. She's one of the newer kids though, she just transferred for this semester," Johanna pauses and adds, "Believe me though, she's absolutely  _wicked_  with those things. I'll have to show you later."

I nod in agreement and make a mental note not to underestimate whoever this Clove person is. No normal human being would be able to earn a compliment out of Johanna Mason. I glance back down at the plastic box and read the receipt taped to the bottom.

_Subtotal: $345.00_

_**Total: $370.11** _

I've known Finnick for some time, and I vividly recall that one time his parents bought a lottery ticket at his request when he was just fourteen years old. Somehow, through teenage Finnick's frantic coin scratching, the Odair's managed to win the jackpot. I guess they must have given him a fair share of the money. I can feel Johanna's curious glances, but all she whispers is a quiet "damn, Finn".

"So who will be sitting with us?" I ask, trying to form a list of participants in my mind.

"You, me, your friend Madge, Finnick, his girl, Clove, her man,…maybe one of Clove's friends, I don't really know."

"Johanna, you do realize these tables seat twelve people, right?"

She beams at me, "Of course. Empty seats just means more table space for me. I can sit away from all you nerds  _and_  there'll be more room for my food. It's perfect!" Her smile fades, "In all seriousness though, a few empty chairs won't hurt anyone, right?" Before I have a chance to respond, a deep male voice cuts me off.

"Hey Katniss and Johanna, come and join us for the group picture!" I turn around and see Finnick waving us over from an ornate marble staircase. I've only been inside Finnick's mansion once or twice before. The interior is flawless; I know that his mother is an interior designer and architect but I can only assume that she played a heavy part in the décor. On one of the higher steps is a girl sporting a pair of midnight blue stilettos to make up for her otherwise short stature. I wouldn't recommend the shoes to anyone else her size, but her small, dark eyes and the slight smirk she sports on her face makes me reconsider having any negative opinion I have about her choice of attire. Next to her is a slightly taller man who would easily tower over her if he wore 4-inch heels as well. Madge must have stepped inside while I was talking to Finnick or Johanna, but she's there, right above Clove.

"The one with the stilettos is Clove, in case it wasn't obvious," Johanna whispers before she walks past me.

Annie and Finnick follow suit, and I'm lost in my own thoughts for a moment too long.

"Get up there, sweetheart," I hear as a chilly hand presses against my back, pushing me forward. I turn around and frown at Haymitch, and especially at the scotch on the rocks in his palm, but say nothing as I step up. He must have arrived sometime through my day dreaming, but my thoughts were interrupted by small bursts of white light, and I reflexively plastered a grin on my face.

* * *

I massage my cheeks after smiling through so many camera flashes (I could swear more adults joined the paparazzi for no reason) and wander over to the granite island in the middle of their heavily furnished kitchen. Sometime during our pictures, the group of kids from Capitol High left to go to their own dance, leaving the vast array of snacks at the mercy of my growing appetite. The entire island was covered from end to end, not just with food, but plates, silverware, metal tongs, flower bouquets, and even some lit candles that smelled like citrus. I grab plastic plate and gather an assortment of crackers, cheese, and small fruits as I walk around the house, basking in its architectural glory. I briefly remember seeing floorplans and other schematics in my dad's old journal during the days when he would show me bits and pieces of his childhood. I find a remote part of the house that has windows spanning across two of its four walls, providing a nice view of the gray pond in the middle of the neighborhood. Gray. A stormy blue-gray accented by many shimmers in its rippling surface.

"Hey Katniss!" The greeting surfaces without any warning, causing me to inhale an entire grape and completely abandon all thoughts about my father and our mutual eye color.

"H-hey Ma…adge," I grunt through a short series of coughs. "Sorry. Grape," I continue after swallowing hard.

"Ah. Well, Finnick told me to tell you that the limousine will be here in around ten minutes," she says, glancing up at the clock. My eyes follow her gaze up the beige wall and onto the patterned clockface.

5:25 PM

"Thanks for telling me, I'll see you in a bit," I say, stuffing the rest of the snacks into my mouth while walking toward the front door. I grab my tan peacoat from the closet and almost manage to make it outside.

"Trying to get a head start?" Johanna asks from a distance away. Annie and Finnick are standing right by her, engaged in a conversation that she just recently left.

I roll my eyes, "Yeah just going for a road trip all the way to California, save some of the dessert for me when I get back." I change my tone to a more serious one, "No actually I'm just heading out to grab my shoes. These heels are killing me."

"Were you just wearing them for the pictures?"

I grin before turning around and opening the door.

Our entourage of teenagers soon pulls up in the circular road in front of the banquet hall, joining a series of other limousines and the occasional van. Even after spending four years at this private institution, the wealth of the students (or rather, their families) never ceases to amaze me.

"Are you excited?" Madge asks as the two of us step out of the pearly limousine.

"Not particularly, no."

"Try to make the most of it then," she says while waiting for the last of our party to close their limousine doors. The glossy car drives off with a quiet hum, and all seven of us (Clove's friend is nowhere to be seen) walk into the lobby in a single sloppy line. The lobby is huge and although most of the seats were already occupied by couples, Johanna manages to sprawl herself across one of the larger L-shaped couches near the middle. A tall, lanky male scowls at her for taking up so much room, and she replies with an extended arm and a raised middle finger. Madge had wandered near the refreshments, and Finnick began introducing Annie to some of his teammates. I recognize almost no one in the sea of faces, other than Johanna's smirk atop a white seat cushion, and realize I'm doomed to spend the next few minutes with her. My attempt at sitting down on the end of the couch is met with a pointy red heel to my upper thigh.

"This couch is  _mine_ ," she calls from the other end. She shifts her right arm so that her hand props up her head, and I can swear her smirk became slightly more cunning.

"Johanna you're a real piece of work," I sigh. I settle for sitting on an armrest just out of reach of her crimson pumps. The swarm of tuxedos and shiny fabric quiets down for a moment, and I realize someone near the front is making an announcement.

"Good evening ladies and gentlemen of Panem Academy! Welcome to your senior prom! I am Plutarch Heavensbee, and I will be speaking on behalf of Headmaster Snow today, for he has fallen ill." His long introduction lost the interest of a quarter of the audience, and noise and chatter slowly builds up around me. Plutarch attempts to regain their attention with a series of coughs, but continues anyway.

"May I have your attention for a minute, please! The tables will be set up at various locations and it will be your responsibility to…" His voice is tuned out by the excited chatter, but I have a feeling his sentence will finish with "form your own groups". Another cough, and another brief silence from the crowd.

"As I was saying. There should be just enough tables for all of you, and space is extremely limited." At these words, the crowd groans and grumbles. I glance down at Johanna to see her smirk transforming into a frown. So much for her free food.

"The doors will open precisely sixty seconds from now, and the buffet table quick to follow. At around 7:05, the ballroom will open, and during that time, waiters and waitresses will serve desserts to each table. One dessert per seat, no more, no less. Are there any questions?" Somehow Plutarch manages to capture everyone's attention and no one raises their hand, either because they didn't listen or they didn't care. Plutarch disappears behind some "Restricted Access" hallway, and everyone else slowly clusters toward an ornate archway. Johanna sighs and gracefully rolls off the couch.

"Try to have  _some_  fun, Katniss," she places a hand on my shoulder. "I'll meet you in a bit. Finnick will save a seat for us," she adds, jutting her chin toward a disheveled tuft of bronze hair that just barely pokes above the mass of updos. I turn my head back toward where Johanna was, but only see a glimpse of a black wisp disappear behind a corner labeled "Restrooms". I attempt to keep Finnick's head in my line of sight, but my small frame makes it easy to disappear in the throng of excited teenagers.

* * *

Even after I pass through the main entrance, people surround me on all sides. I find myself extremely disoriented and my eyes trail up to the ceiling in a feeble attempt to get my bearings. Three large glass chandeliers spanned toward the back of the room, giving her a sense of where to go next. The rest of the ceiling was a peachy color, with an occasional paper streamer draping across.

"Katniss, over here!" I hear his voice before seeing anything that might even closely resemble Finnick, but eventually my eyes find his frantically waving hand. I weave through the remains of the crowd and take a seat next to him.

"Excellent work, Finnick. You're really looking out for your antisocial friends, aren't you," I comment. He had chosen the table furthest away from the main door, which happened to be nestled near a corner. The view was partially obscured by various streamers, party balloons, and the giant flower arrangements that crowned every table. I suppose something large had to serve as a centerpiece for giant tables that served twelve.

"Good thing we're near the food, right?" He grins and hooks a thumb over his shoulder. Sure enough, a small crowd of kitchen workers were in the process of setting up various dishes, all of which looked like they could be full meals on their own. I catch myself smiling and tear my attention away from the steaming vats of food.

"Hey Finnick, do you know who else is going to sit with us? You heard Heavensbee, and Johanna said we would have eight people  _at most_."

He shakes his head solemnly. "Nope. All of my friends ditched me. Oh, hang on," he looks over my shoulder, "JOHANNA! Over here!"

She arrives with Annie, Clove, and someone else. They all seat themselves on the other side of Finnick, and Johanna is sure to leave some space between her and the next person over.

"By the way, Finnick. You're pretty terrible, losing your girlfriend at prom? Good thing the two of us needed to take a piss at the same time. Next time, –" Johanna Mason always spoke straight from her mind, but at her words, tears were beginning to brim in Annie's eyes. Finnick's turquoise eyes burns through Johanna, and for the first time in recorded history, she fumbles out a brief apology.

"A-anyway, this is Clove and Cato," she mutters, pointing to the dark-haired girl and her blond companion. I recognized Cato from the football team, but I haven't seen Clove anywhere in school. Perhaps she was one of the select group of students who dual-enrolled at the local college. The couple waves a curt greeting, but Clove's face falls in the middle of it.

"Looks like Glimmer's here," she curses under her breath. I turn around and barely recognize the girl from the salon. Glimmer, I think. I had only seen her from a distance, in the salon, but now she dons a heavily textured dress that looks as if it was woven out of feathers. I've never seen anything like it in all the shopping that I've done in my life. Granted, I don't shop much, but when Prim drags me by the wrist to look at Jessica McClintock, Christian Dior, and even the new Jovani store at our mall, it's hard not to notice the alien mannequins in the storefronts. She had always wanted to buy a dress like that, but I always told her no and pushed her along. The dress my mother purchased for me at the end of March was one she found on sale for a measly $35 dollars, but back then, it wasn't much. Cinna had made some adjustments and it fit like a glove afterward.

But Glimmer's attention is diverted elsewhere, and her male companion greets us first. "Cato! My man, what's up?" The stocky boy claps his huge palm onto Cato's shoulder, almost causing him to spill the water he was drinking.

"Nice to see you too, Marvel." His face is tinted an unnatural shade of red and as he walks toward the empty seat next to Cato, his limbs wobbly slightly. With Haymitch Abernathy as a neighbor, I'm only too familiar with how intoxicated people act.

"Hey Muscles, that seat is taken." I see Johanna is back to her usual frowny, snappy self. Of course it was a lie, but for whatever reason, Johanna had chosen to sit down in a seat two away from Cato's.

"Chill, lady. I was just chatting with my bro here."

"Yeah? Well I think it's prime time for you to leave," she retorts. I briefly remember Johanna mentioning Marvel sometime during our underclassmen years, but I have no idea why she seems so snappy right now. Glimmer arrives, whispering something into his ear, and the two turn around and leave.

Johanna rolls her eyes at their backs and faces the rest of us, "Anyone up for some food? I thought I smelled some lamb stew earlier." We all nod our assent and rise up to the buffet tables, loading our ceramic plates with a helping of anything we found desirable. Finnick pokes fun at Johanna's helpings of food, but she pays him no mind.

I've always lived on simpler meals, they were easier to prepare and didn't take my mother away from her duties for too long. She worked at a local hospital and immersing herself in patients and diagnostics distracted herself long enough to get by. After my father passed away, his insurance supported us for a small amount of time, but we knew that in this suburban environment, there was next to nothing a mere elementary schoolgirl could do. Even though I used to participate in art fairs and even attempted lemonade stands, the spare change that just barely covered the bottom of my glass jars would never be enough. Somehow my mother got back on her feet and found a job at a local hospital. Her hours left her sleeping at odd times of the day, and seldom awake whenever I happened to be home.

I take a bite of a small spoonful of wild rice covered with a small portion of the lamb stew and instantly savor the flavor.

"Wow Katniss, you can really eat," Finnick comments as he watches me wolf down spoonful after spoonful. Had I not been in such a formal environment, I would have even considered tipping the plate back and letting the food rain onto my face.

"At least I'm not the one taking food from other people," I counter, staring at Johanna's bowl of soup that now sits in front of him.

"It's okay, I'm just watching out for Jo," he says. "Wouldn't want her to pop out of that pretty dress of hers." Johanna rolls her eyes and goes back to eating her meal while Finnick returns his attention to Annie, who has been quiet all evening.

"Since we're all pretty much strangers, why don't we go around introducing ourselves?" Madge suggests from her seat between Clove and Annie. It was an ideal position, three people sat on either side of her (save for Johanna, who had kept her distance for personal reasons), and at her words, all of us glance at each other for what seems like the first time.

"I guess I'll start then. I'm Katniss, Katniss Everdeen, and…and what else do you want me to say?"

"Tell us about yourself. Your favorite color, your favorite cuisine, anything."

"Madge, the year's over. You sound like you're writing a column for the yearbook." She rolls her eyes, but the corners of her lips flit upward.

"Have it your way," she turns to my neighbor, Finnick. "So. Finnick Odair, how's life with you? What's the story behind you and Annie? What–"

"Whoa there Madge, settle down. Life's good, especially since Annie's here," he says with a short chuckle. "I think Annie should be the spotlight of these introductions, really." He nudges her gently with his elbow, and she rolls her eyes.

"I'm not really that good with words…" she begins. "My name is Annie Cresta, I'm home schooled, I like the ocean, I adore Mags, my caretaker, and... And that's it."

"Hah, not much of the ocean here now is there?" Clove pipes up from where she's sitting, "I used to live out on the coast, it was probably one of the greatest things ever. Sand in between your toes, children just running all around you, waves splashing up at your ankles… It's the life."

I turn my gaze back toward Annie and her smile is almost contagious. "You summed it up so perfectly, and I don't even know your name."

"Clove, Clove Newton," she answers, grinning. "I met Jo and Cato at the Renaissance Fair in August, if you didn't go, you should definitely go next year." She nudges her partner before continuing, "Your turn, buddy."

Cato turns around from a conversation he was having with Johanna, and introduces himself. Plutarch's announcement about the opening of the ballroom interrupts are small conversation, and all eyes turn toward me. After a few lighthearted remarks about how neither Madge nor I have dates (Johanna was let off the hook), Glimmer arrives in the empty seat between Johanna and Cato.

"Oh my God, Cato! You guys have so many extra seats, why don't you just come and sit with us? It's a party over there, Marvel's just so cool," she giggles. "Much cooler than any of you."

"What a shame," Johanna grumbles.

"Of course it is! You guys aren't doing anything here, so I'll just start talking for you. Cato, come and sit with us! It'll be fun," she winks. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Finnick whisper something to Annie, and the two of them head off toward the ballroom. "Oh look, two more empty seats. You guys are  _so_  boring." One of her face eyelashes hangs comically off her lower lashline, and I can't imagine what she would do if she could see herself.

"Well, if you won't move, I'll just go and get all of my friends on my own then. Brutus and Enobaria would really like some fresh meat to talk to," Glimmer stands up to leave as a small black fluffy thing falls onto the peach tablecloth. Oh, those must be the eyelashes.

"I think I'll run to the bathroom," I announce, turning toward the four remaining members of our party. "You guys might want to move before she gets back and does something stupid."

"Too late for that," Cato mutters. "Now I don't feel bad about going to Finnick's for pictures. Getting drunk before prom can  _only_  end in good things." Johanna suddenly perks up from her sullen posture and quickly scoots her chair back.

"Hey Kat, I'll follow you in a sec alright? They're closing up the buffet tables and I need to grab something quick," she calls out behind her. I nod and attempt to retrace my footsteps to the main lobby where I had first seen the sign for the restrooms. I quickly find it, but a rough hand clamps around my elbow.

"Hey, you there," he slurs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm certainly quite elated to publish my first chapter of this fanfic. It was originally intended to be a one-shot. As time progressed, it got longer and longer, so I decided to split it into multiple parts. I know this chapter wasn't extremely exciting; but I hope you enjoyed it. In later chapter(s?), I will reveal a bit more about each character, and of course, introduce Peeta. I would love it if you could write a quick review telling me your thoughts on the story, and I'll definitely consider them for the next chapter.
> 
> Until next time!
> 
> -Axis


	2. Chapter 2

Marvel awkwardly spins me around to face him. I don't know if alcohol was served at the dinner, but by the way he acts, I can only assume he became even more intoxicated. His glassy amber eyes stare back at me with a small tinge of fury. The door to the girl's bathroom was right around the corner and I mentally planned my route of escape.

"What do you want?" I hiss, shoving my hand into his chest. He anticipates this, and latches his other hand around my wrist.

"Still looking for a fight, are we?"

"What are you talking about?"

"Please, you were just looking for an excuse to finish the fight from earlier. Well, you know what? I'm ready now." What fight?

"Look, I think you're mistaking me for someone else." Johanna's hair was almost the same color as mine, but the resemblances stop there.

"I know who you are. Captain of the girl's wrestling team? That girl who always gives our rugby boys shit? Don't think you're off the hook just because we're almost out of here."

"I'm not Johanna, I'm Katniss Everdeen. I don't know what Jo did to you but just let it go and let me take a piss in peace." Maybe I was just being irritated, but at those words, I couldn't stop myself from thinking that our personalities were quite comparable. Marvel narrows his eyes and a grunt escapes his throat.

"Oh yeah? Well do me a favor then, next time you see Johanna, tell her to shove it up her-"

" **MARVEL GET YOUR DAMN PAWS OFF OF MY BEST FRIEND**." Johanna's bellow echoes at least two more times down the hallway. I should be used to it after all the years we've spent together, but at her voice, I feel as if I jumped right out of my skin. She's dragging her feet, as if pulling something behind her, but I don't bother to find out. Taking advantage of his loosened hold, I wriggle out of Marvel's grip and disappear into the girl's bathroom. I hear a few more voices outside, some choice words from Johanna, and then a pair of footsteps fading away. I turn my head at the creaking door and smile when Johanna walks in.

"Alright he's gone now, Glimmer dragged him away. Are you alright?"

"Yeah, feeling pretty peachy," I respond in a deadpan voice, but Johanna's eyes are clouded with an unusually intense amount of worry. Now was not a time to spit out my sarcastic remarks, and I stumble over a quick apology. "Really Jo, he didn't do anything to me. I'm fine." She grins at my disdain, but her smile doesn't quite reach her eyes as she analyzes me for a moment before turning toward the door.

"If you say so," she murmurs.

"Hey, can I ask you something?"

"Yeah?" She lets her hand drop from the stainless steel handle and turns her entire body back toward me.

"I can completely understand if you don't want to explain, I mean, everyone has their stories and such. I really don't mean to barge in on anything, really…" she frowns at the formality of my tone. The two of us have always been painfully blunt with each other, but now was not the time and place for that. "But. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine Katniss, really. I used to worry about Clove a lot throughout the year, actually. One day, at the Renaissance fair, Marvel came up to her booth was acting a little too close for comfort. I later found out that he was her ex and had been trying all summer to get back with her," Johanna leans back against the sink counter, staring out into space. "I don't know, maybe it's just because I know Clove has been trying to forget those days and I've gotten too used to chasing him away." There's more to the story, but I don't press for it.

"At the beginning, he mentioned something about a rugby team, you know."

Her eyelids perk up and all signs of anxiety fades away from her brown pupils. A devilish grin spreads across her face and she smirks before responding, "Ever since I started wrestling as a freshman, he's hazed me like crazy for it. The other girls were feeling sympathetic, but we all had to devise a plan to take him down. Lucky for him, most of the rugby team were upperclassmen so they're all gone now. But," she directs her gaze toward my own and wiggles her eyebrows, "those were definitely the glory days."

I fold my arms over my chest, anticipating the rest of the story, but she just shakes her head and opens the bathroom door.

"I'll be heading back, but next time, remember this: punch that sorry asshole in the ear."

"The ear...?" I can't imagine punching someone's ear would be worth it in any way. I try to picture hooking my fist around to hit the side of a head, and I can't imagine it would be very comfortable for both parties involved.

"Works like a charm. People don't expect to be punched in the ear," she remarks with a grin. Something about her triumph makes me wonder if she speaks from experience, but I take her word for it. "Anyway, I gotta run. I can't leave my precious food unattended around Finnick."

"You go do that, I'll be in the lobby." She smiles in response and her navy dress disappears after her in a moment. I briefly disappear into a bathroom stall and then wander out into the hall by the lobby and sit down on a short bench. My encounter with Marvel was relatively brief and the conversation with Johanna was even shorter, but the soles of my feet were still complaining.

My eyes follow the elongating shadows cast by the window panes that stretched from floor to ceiling. The long dark lines guide my gaze to a series of empty armchairs, pool tables, ping pong tables, and a lone flatscreen TV on one side. It's strange to think this space was where 250 kids were packed just over an hour ago. I suppose the employees of the building ran out of room to store all the furniture and decided it was best to place it right back where it was once a bunch of rambunctious teenagers left.

I walk over to one of the single-person chairs, kick off my shoes, and curl up into a ball. I somehow manage to fit snuggly between the two upholstered armrests. My lower back rests in the corner between one armrest and the backing while my shin pressed near the other armrest. I'm thankful that Cinna had the sense to add an extra layer of light, but opaque knee-length fabric underneath my dress. I hear a four note hum and take my phone out of my purse, glancing at the small screen before reading the text.

 

**JOHANNA M.** : BTW, if you aren't coming back, I'll be eating your dessert. ;)

 

Ah, yes. Johanna Mason at her finest.

I close my eyes and take a nap. Several minutes have passed before I hear distinct footsteps in the distance. The paper thin walls do little to mask the sound of the DJ. I try to ignore the idea of someone approaching, telling myself it's just a passing custodian, but the sound only grows steadily closer. The footsteps pass near my head, and I glance up to see him take a seat in a nearby chair. The setting sun shines through the window behind him, making it hard to distinguish his facial features. But from the silhouette of both of his ears, I can tell that he's looking directly at me.

"What?" Perhaps I'm imagining it, but his tone sounds defensive.

Oh. Right, my eyes narrowed into slits in a desperate attempt to block out the sun and identify this kid. I must have looked like I was glaring at him. I quickly turn my head back toward my knees and rub my eyes.

"Sorry, it was the sun." My apology comes out a little more sincere than I had intended, but there was something else I had to ask, "What are you doing here anyway?" Not that I had a right to be asking such a casual question toward some teenage boy I couldn't even recognize.

"Running away from fan girls, the usual," he says sarcastically.

I scoff. "Seriously now."

"You think I'm kidding? Ever since I became captain of the wrestling team, I've been surrounded by girls at every single dance." Oh so  _that's_  who he is. "Homecoming, winter formal, Spring Fling… And especially here at prom. You'd think they would be chasing the football jocks or the basketball players but nooo."

Now I know why his voice sounded so familiar. I've heard his name mentioned multiple times in the tiled hallways, staircases, cafeteria, and even the bathrooms. He's gained a reputation along the lines of "ugh, he's so cute but he won't go out with me!"

He's Peeta Mellark.

Madge had mentioned him a few times through our short but concise conversations about our daily lives. As the former head of Panem Academy's yearbook club, I'd imagine she would have interviewed him here and there about his athletic life.

"I can give you some space too."

"It's fine, I don't mind the company but it's just… Do you know the pom girls, Cashmere and Glimmer?" I nod. "They're the crazy ones."

"I'm not surprised, I saw them at a salon earlier today. They were getting an extreme makeover." I make a face, "I'll never understand why they thought gemstones in their hair would be a good idea."

He nods in assent, "Girls can get pretty crazy sometim – No offense."

I shrug, glancing up at the fringe my hair formed above my eyes, "None taken. I know what you mean, even this hairdo is pushing it. At least for me."

A chuckle. "Nah don't say that, it looks great on you."

That's right, he's a total flirt. Somehow that fact slipped my mind during this conversation and I somewhat regret speaking so casually with him. Wouldn't want Peeta to get the wrong impression, that's only happened one too many times.

I roll my eyes, "Sweet words coming from a guy like you. Where's your date? Surely someone like you has had many offers."

"Sort of. It used to be Delly Cartwright."

"Used to be?"

"Yeah, I was planning on going with her… But then she called me a week ago saying she had to bail, too busy helping all of her friends get their hair and makeup done." Peeta shrugs, as if to indicate that the turn of events didn't bother him at all.

"Oh. That certainly sounds like Delly."

"Yeah, we're friends and…"

I glance up to wait for the second half of his sentence, but his attention has shifted elsewhere. Without a warning, he bolts behind a white leather ottoman. I turn around and see the elder of the two twins, Cashmere, slowly walking around the white columns toward the two of us. Without the drying hood covering her hair, I can almost make out each individual gemstone woven into her updo.

"I thought I heard him…" Cashmere mutters, looking around. Her eyes point directly toward mine, and she starts walking closer.

"Hey you, have you seen a medium-height blond kid anywhere around here?" She asks, pointing around the room with her finger.

"Nope, try checking the dance floor."

She pauses, as if considering my advice, but proceeds to walk toward one side of the lobby, carefully analyzing the furniture for any signs of life. Cashmere stops for a second, her eyes narrowing in on the seat Peeta just vacated. The cushion was still dented in the middle, but I point my finger back toward the hallway and say, "The dance is that way." She huffs and stalks away in her golden pumps, shoes that vaguely remind me of my own.

"Thanks for that, I owe you one," he pauses. "You up for some ice cream? I could treat you to something downtown."

I'm about to reject when I realize that the dessert that would be on my plate is most likely safely nestled in Johanna Mason's stomach. I brought all my things with me when I left for the bathroom, and I certainly had no other reason to stay.

"Yeah sure, let me just send my friend a quick text."

 

**KATNISS E.** : Hey Jo, I'm probably going to go to Dalton's with someone, not sure if I'll be back.

**JOHANNA M.** : Who are you going with? Your red velvet cupcake was AMAZING, btw.

**KATNISS E.** : Peeta Mellark, just met him here in the lobby. He seems alright. I'll try to remember your advice though, don't worry.

**JOHANNA M.** : I'll let the others know. But wow, Cpt. Mellark. In that case, you two lovebirds have fun on your date! ;)

 

I certainly hadn't expected Johanna to say yes, but upon reading the last words of her text, a disgusted expression spreads across my face.

"Can you still go?" Peeta asks, staring down at my hunched figure. His innocent question interrupts the nasty reply that I typed, and I quickly shove my phone back into my purse.

"No, it's not that. She was alright with it but… Augh. Something tells me I'll never hear the end of it," I grumble as I stand up. He shoots me a curious glance but says nothing.

* * *

"You drive a truck?" I might just be imagining it, but a small part of me refuses to be that Peeta Mellark, heartthrob of Panem Academy, drives around town in nothing more than a pick-up truck.

He laughs briefly and then grimaces, "My younger brother ran off with my Mustang for the night. He's apparently trying to impress some girl and left me with his car," he pats the side mirror a couple times. "It's practical though, just like him. Well, most of the time." I suppress a laugh at his joke and climb into a seat. I busy myself with staring out of the passenger window, occasionally glancing forward to gauge how long it would take to reach the small, family-run ice cream parlor.

Just as we enter the crowded streets of the inner city, my phone whistles again, and I glance down at the screen.

 

**FINNICK O.** : A little birdy told me you went off running with a boy. Nice Katniss, I'll forgive you for leaving halfway through prom as long as you give me some details. ;D

 

I groan and heavily contemplate leaving my phone off for the rest of the evening.

"What's wrong?" Peeta asks while I continue to grimace at an inanimate object. He's been silently concentrating on the road for most of the ride, and has the nerve to spark a conversation now. Of all times.

"A friend texted me."

"Oooh. A friend huh?" I sigh and silently curse to myself. The tone in Peeta's voice sounds exactly like what I imagined Johanna's and Finnick's to be.

"Yeah, Finnick Odair."

"Finnick, really? What did he say?"

I pause, debating whether or not to tell him. "Don't worry about it. I'll tell you some other time." An empty promise, but he doesn't press further.

Peeta nods curtly and pulls the car into one of the many empty spots in front of the local ice cream store and quickly announces, "We're here."

He unbuckles his seatbelt and opens the passenger side door for me, and I take his hand as I step out of the car. We pass across the short sidewalk in silence. An old cow bell jingles as I hold the old wooden door for Peeta, and the friendly owner glances up from the counter he was wiping down.

"Hey kids! What can I get for you today?" Dalton says, tossing the splotchy rag aside and donning a white apron adorned with large black spots.

"I'll take a small cup of orange sherbet, please." Peeta's automatic response buys me time to browse through the assortment of flavors. When Dalton turns expectantly toward me after a few moments, I point in the general direction of what I believed to be "Moose Tracks", a blend of vanilla and what I think is chocolate and peanut butter. Before I have a chance to object, Peeta takes out a small bundle of cash and pays $6.51 on my behalf, waving off Dalton's offer of returning change.

"So what's the occasion?" Dalton asks as he neatly folds the cash inside his the register.

"Prom," I reply. "Well, it was. I don't really know what's happening anymore." Dalton lets out a small chuckle as Peeta grins sheepishly.

"Yeah, bringing her here was my idea," he says while running his free hand through his hair. Dalton makes a few more comments and then waves us off, telling us to eat our ice cream before it melts. We sit at a small table next to one of the few glass windows not obstructed by the neon "Dalton's Dairy Delights" sign, and I cautiously eat a small spoonful of my treat.

"So, while we're here, tell me a little bit about yourself," Peeta says, nibbling on a small lump of orange. I inwardly groan at the suggestion, but the simplicity of his first question catches me by surprise. "What's your favorite color?"

"Green," I glance around, trying to find a decent color swatch for the exact shade, "Kind of like that car over there, that old Lincoln. What about you?"

"Any shade of orange, but I especially like sunset orange," he says, smiling. "What else do you like? Any hobbies?"

"I go camping each weekend with a family friend. You might know him, actually. He plays on the varsity soccer team… Gale Hawthorne?"

"Are you two going out?" He blurts out without warning. His blue eyes widen in a mix of surprise and fear, and stares down at the table in shame.

"Uh…" I suddenly find the Lincoln to be incredibly fascinating, "

His face reddens ever so slightly, and he nervously rubs his hand across his neck before continuing, "All this time, I was so sure you were taken and… And a bunch of my teammates have mentioned you at one point or another. You have this reputation for being the coldest girl they know. Unless you're around Gale."

This is news to me. "Well, just so we're clear, I've never done anything with Gale. We haven't gone on a date, held hands, kissed... Nothing." There have been a few times where he's tried to make a move on me, but Peeta doesn't need to know that. No one needs to know that.

"Save your lips for someone who…" His words are drowned out by a symphony of car horns outside. Dalton's small ice cream parlor is situated in a rather inconvenient location, a poor little corner store with an intersection painfully busy for patrons and drivers alike. It's unfortunate location was probably what drove the previous owner to sell it.

"What were you saying?" He just shakes his head in response, as if to say "never mind", and resumes poking at his ice cream with a plastic spoon. I absentmindedly finish what remains of my own dessert, and stuff a dirty napkin into the empty cup.

"So, what now?" I ask as I fold the crumpled corners of the paper napkin.

"We could stay here, or we could go somewhere else," he pauses at the straightforwardness of his response and I cock an eyebrow. "I mean, we could go to the district park. I used to go there all the time just to relax," his blue eyes flit out the window and then back to me, "but it'll probably get dark in an hour or so."

"I wouldn't mind spending some time outside," I murmur. "But is it really a good idea to prance around in a park while wearing formal attire?" I wave my hand toward his tuxedo.

He glances down briefly and a small glint seems to shine in his eye, "It'll be fine."

* * *

 I leave my phone and purse inside the glovebox, and follow him outside of his truck. On the edge of the small asphalt parking lot stands a street lamp that shines a bright white light down onto a section of grass. Later at night, the light may end up resembling a spotlight or something, but as of right now, the sun is still in the sky. It's low, it'll probably dip beneath the horizon within the hour, but the nearby trees already seem to weave a latticework of shadows across the park.

"I have an idea. Do you like acting?" he says, grinning toothily at me. Suddenly I feel very out of my element.

"Uh…"

Peeta plucks a dandelion flower from the ground and the smile on his face threatens to tear through his cheek. I cock an eyebrow and fold my arms over my chest. I could swear he winks, but the dramatic rays of the setting sun are too misleading. He quickly turns away from me to face the empty field, where there's nothing to be seen except a few trees and some insects buzzing around.

"Good evening ladies and gentlemen, may I have your attention please," he speaks into the yellow petals as if they were some sort of microphone. He completely changes his accent, deepening his voice for absolutely no reason at all, and fluctuating the volume of his voice just as any radio announcer would. Any hint of unease I felt is completely overshadowed by the laughter that threatens to break free from my lips.

"This is your student council president, Caesar Flickerman, here to announce Panem Academy's prom king and queen!" He throws his free hand up in the air and walks in a short path, as if he was on stage and acknowledging an invisible audience. "May I have the ballots?" He looks at me expectantly and I shoot him a look of confusion.

"Peeta you're being so ridiculous right now."

"The  _ballots_ , please. And I am Mr. Flickerman, address me as such." He says, clearly articulating his words while giving me a stern look. I wonder if he's taking this little skit too far, but I give in to his request.

I rack through my brain and look around, trying to find something that would suffice. All around me are blades of grass, I suppose that will have to do. I squat down and pluck several of the wider blades of crabgrass and hold my cupped hands out to Pe– "Caesar".

"Thank you," he turns away from the streetlamp and back toward the imaginary audience, "Our committee has spent the night tallying each and every one of your votes from last week and we're pleased to tell you who your lovely queen and king are! Our queen is…" He places his free hand in the small bowl I formed with my own and pulls out a single blade of grass. He studies it for a moment, as if pretending to read the nothing written on its leafy surface, and then glances back out toward the "crowd".

"Katniss Everdeen!" It takes all of my willpower to keep my arms extended and not slam a palm against my forehead. I roll my eyes and sigh, trying my hardest to look away from the ridiculous smile that's plastered over Peeta's face.

"And our beloved king… Drumroll, please!" His hand plucks another blade of grass from my palms and "reads" it, "Peeta Mellark!" He drops the dandelion and smiles, as if abandoning his other name and returning to that boy I saw at the banquet hall. I take the cue and dust my hands free of the grass, letting the leaves flutter to the ground. Peeta turns to look back at me, grinning like a fool.

"And what was the point of that?" My words deliver with a tone marginally harsher than I had intended, but it wasn't something I was going to apologize for.

"You see, Katniss, it's custom for the prom king and queen to dance together," he holds out his hands, "May I?"

"Peeta, you do realize you could have just asked me like a normal human being, right? 'Katniss, will you dance with me?'"

His eyes wince ever so slightly, but he still manages to keep a grin on his face. A pang of sorrow pierces my heart and I mentally curse myself for being so cold to someone who tried so hard just to make me smile.

"Alright. But I have no idea what I'm doing," I mutter as I place my hands on top of his.

"That's fine, as long as you don't step on my feet."

He places my left hand on his shoulder and then hesitates, his right hand floats in the space between us. I glance down at it and then back up at his face. His eyes ask me a silent question, and I give a quick nod.

We start off slow, where I just try my hardest not to trip over him. My eyes are pretty much glued to the ground, trying to keep up with his confusing footwork while distancing myself enough to spare the risk of stepping on his feet. I bump my toes against his black dress shoes a number of times, each incident quickly accompanied by a hasty "augh, sorry!" Once I start getting a feel for the rhythm of the dance, Peeta takes the opportunity and tries more advanced maneuvers. A dip here, a spin there, and at one point he lifts me a couple inches off the ground. His internal tempo quickens slightly, and suddenly the two of us are twirling around each other, our interlocked hands only briefly breaking to allow for full rotations. Before I know it, I'm smiling. Laughing. Cracking jokes about his steps as well as my own. My surroundings mesh into a wavy blur accented by thin streaks of yellow light, and even long after we run out of jokes, I still find myself grinning like a fool.

In my euphoria, I manage to lose my balance and my right foot stumbles into his, immediately causing me to lose my balance. Before I'm able to say or do anything, his arm loops around my stomach and pulls me back upright.

"For a moment there, I thought you were lying about not knowing how to dance," Peeta says, resting his chin on top of my head, "I guess you weren't kidding." I don't quite know how to respond to his words nor his actions, so I simply nod and attempt to stop my heart from beating so quickly. After a moment, he lifts his chin off of my head and unravels his arm from around me. I don't move an inch, trying to regain my briefly lost balance and sense of mind.

"So what now?" I venture.

"Not sure. Wanna check out the playground?" I nod in response, veering to the right, toward the slides and swings I adored as a grade schooler.

* * *

"Okay. You need to stop, you're making the supports shake," Peeta says, standing a few feet away from me with his arms folded over his chest. His jacket sat in a small clump at his feet even though the evening was getting slightly colder.

"You're no fun." I let my legs drop and I gradually slow down. After a few moments, he turns around and starts to walk away. I slide my left shoe off and flick my foot toward his back, but my aim isn't as perfect as I thought it was. The grassy sole strikes him squarely in the head, and I immediately flee the scene, losing my other shoe in the process.

"Serves you right!" I call over my shoulder while cackling with laughter. I get a glimpse of Peeta's bulky body chasing after me, closing the distance between us. My movement is heavily restricted by my dress, but the loose skirt did allow me to nimbly weave through the painted metal poles of the playground structures. I duck behind a short plastic wall and peek through the small holes. In the dark, I'm just barely able to make out the white shape of Peeta's dress shirt walking slowly around. I straighten up and quietly walk around the small series of platforms, bridges, and steps.

My toe collides with a metal pole a moment before my head has a chance to. I instinctively bite my lip to stop myself from cursing and crumple to the ground in an attempt to massage the pain away. After only moments of sitting down, the texture of soft silk presses against my arms and shoulders. Two soft  _thunks_  land next to me, my shoes, and I look up to find a pair of sapphire eyes staring down at me.

"At this rate, you might end up losing a leg," Peeta comments as he sits down across from me.

"Thanks for the jacket," I whisper while the swings creak in the distance. I busy myself with staring at the plastic buttons on the cuffs of the sleeves. There were three of them on each cuff and each button had four holes with dark thread crisscrossing through them. One of them had a slight hint of a marble pattern, another had a small chip on the underside and its thread was coming undone and…

"What would you like to do now?"

"I'd like to just stay here, actually." What the hell was I saying? "I don't exactly want to go back to the dance nor do I want to go home so soon."

"Huh, really. So instead of socializing at prom or spending time alone at home, you'd rather run around and slam into heavy metal objects?" He laughs and I stick my tongue out at him, even though I doubt he can see my reaction.

"Well, not  _here_ ," I mutter, pointing at the jungle of metal posts and railings, "But here in this park, yeah. You know, I could lay down on the grass and…stuff." Within the course of the past few seconds, my loser rating probably just shot through the roof. It's probably a new record.

"Alright, sounds good to me. Mind if I join you?" I shake my head. "Sweet, I'll just run to the car and grab a blanket."

"Your brother keeps a blanket in his car? Why?"

Peeta just rolls his eyes as he stands up to leave, "He read some article online like 'top 10 things to keep in your car'. He's never used most of them though."

"I see. Mind if I follow you to the car? I probably should check to see if anyone called within the past... Since I left." How long was it anyway?

"Sure." He steps back down onto the sand and holds his hand out for me to stumble after him. For whatever reason, our loose grip doesn't separate during the walk to his car. I can't tell if he's aware of it, but my suspicions are confirmed when he's about to open the door.

"Aww look, we're holding hands." He smiles, but grins even wider when I free my grip and slap his shoulder.

"Just go get your damn blanket," I mutter as I cross over to the passenger side of the car. I fish my purse out of the glovebox and shudder at the flurry of alerts I've missed. One text from Prim, a missed call from my mother, two texts from Madge, three from Finnick, and last but not least: seventeen texts from Johanna. After scrolling through most of the latter, I estimated at least twelve were just ";)"s, and the rest were probably equally teasing remarks, but Finnick's most recent text catches my attention.

 

**FINNICK O.** : Change of plans, party probably won't start til around eleven, I'm seeing a movie with Annie. I hope you still come. :''''''''''''(

 

I have yet to get used to how Finnick insists on using excessive amounts of "tears" for absolutely no reason at all.

"Do you have to leave?" I briefly look up before shaking my head. Finnick had built quite a reputation for hosting various parties after every dance. I normally don't attend them with everyone else around. Now, with our high school years behind us, I had planned to spend some time with our friends stuffing ourselves with leftover party snacks, but with such a late start time, I wonder if the usual large crowd will be there. "Alright. Let's go set up our little picnic." Peeta's words pull me back into the present, and I hastily nod in agreement.

I follow him back to the grassier area of the park and we stop at a small slope that leads toward a dark pond. He opens the blanket on a small patch of grass nestled in between the roots of an oak tree and sits down. Following his example, I pick a spot on the edge of the soft fabric and run my fingers through the cool ground.

"So what was in that text? You know, the one from Finnick," he starts. I blink a few times, completely surprised by his accurate recollection.

"I didn't think you'd remember that," I reply, turning around to face him. "But it was pretty much the same thing that Johanna said." His mouth drops open and he struggles to regain his composure.

"Johanna? Johanna Mason?" I nod. "Oh God. What did she say?" I try to analyze his expression, but it just depicts some mix of surprise and horror. Shock? Fear?

"Well, she was the friend I asked before we left the venue. She said…" I dig through my purse and find my phone, "'you two lovebirds have fun on your date', and then a wink. I have no idea what she meant by that."

Peeta runs his hands through his blond hair and sighs, "I shouldn't be so surprised. Johanna hinted me about this, but I didn't want to believe her."

"What did she warn you about?"

"You." I glance at him inquisitively and he sighs, "It's a long story."

"Well, I'm not going anywhere," I say, tucking my feet underneath me. He folds his arms over his chest, wrinkling his dark silk vest, and sighs.

"Katniss, I…" his lips press together, flattening into a straight, fine line. "I want you to know that right now, tonight, I just wanted you to be happy. And Delly? Delly Cartwright, she's just a really good childhood friend, I'm sure you know this. We've grown up together and don't think that I actually hold any sort of romantic feelings toward her because I've had my eyes set only on one person for as long as I can remember." I'm completely blown away by the sudden amount of words that pour out from his lips, I feel as if I've been buffeted by a powerful gust of wind. His response is… something, but it certainly does nothing to answer the questions that sprouted up in my mind, and it does nothing to prevent even more questions from surfacing. All these thoughts begin to hurt my brain, and I stretch myself across the blanket to relieve myself of the accumulating stress.

"Lucky girl," I muse, staring up at the stars. I close my eyes and intake a deep breath of the evening air. For some reason my voice feels the need to quiver at those two words, and I mentally curse myself for being so affected by some imaginary entity.

"You have no idea."

* * *

_I open my eyes and find myself in a dimly lit field, not too different from the one Peeta had taken me to. It was dark outside, but the light was steadily increasing, as if I had slept through the entire night and awoken just minutes before the first sign of dawn. Peeta's truck was nowhere to be seen on the far horizon, and I glance behind me to see the thick and sturdy trunk of a young, thin birch tree. The playground had mysteriously disappeared as well, but the fireflies from the night before still weaved in and out of all the foliage. I whip my head around at the sound of footsteps approaching from behind me, but I'm greeted with a familiar middle-aged face._

_"Dad?" I call out hesitantly, but my voice is octaves higher than I remember it being. I glance down at myself and realize the lavender and periwinkle dress is nowhere to be found, and my miniature frame instead features a pair of overalls and a t-shirt. The type of outfit I wore in elementary school._

_The man smiles in response, and that's when I notice his two hands are closed around something. He squats down until his stormy gray eyes are level with mine, and he separates his hands, revealing a surprise. This act had occurred throughout my childhood, whenever my father was home, he would make a point to take me into our backyard forest and introduce me to all sorts of wildlife. Such is the life of a biologist, I suppose._

_"Look Katniss, it's a firefly," he says, smiling. The gums lining his teeth seem more purple than usual, but what really catches me off-guard is the lack of the familiar soft, yellow glow, and instead a dark purple hole in his hand. I take a step backwards, not risking to tear my eyes away from his frozen fingertips._

_We attended his funeral years ago. All of us knew he was working a dangerous job, even if he came home every summer to spend a painfully short number of weeks with us, we knew that he was destined to return to the subzero poles of the planet at some time or another. But one day, on a diving mission, his oxygen tank mysteriously collapsed, and he was left to perish in the freezing waters. No one could salvage his body, the water was so cold that his corpse wasn't able to float to the top. I've always wanted to say a proper goodbye to my father, but not by talking to his frozen zombie._

_I look around, wondering if any other members of the dead would suddenly burst out of the ground. I finally glance back and see that his posture hasn't changed, and small flecks of white cover his pale skin like a dusting of sugar. I stick a small, tentative forefinger out toward his wrist, but the moment my finger makes contact with the ice, a burning sensation resonates through my arm. I push my other hand against his shoulder in a desperate attempt to free myself, but it's no use. The burning sensation spreads twice as fast and creeps up to my throat. After a split second, it ebbs and is replaced by a numbing tingle. I cannot move nor cry out. I'm completely immobile. I'm frozen. My lungs being to scream for oxygen but my frozen torso cannot move at all to accommodate for it._

* * *

My eyelids fly open from my short-lived nightmare, and I sit bolt upright in the calm nighttime air. I wiggle my fingertips and heave a sigh of relief upon discovering that none of them are immobile. Peeta stirs next to me and our gazes meet.

"You okay?" He asks after a moment of analyzing my bewildered expression.

I nod, "Sorry, I don't normally get dreams like that." I fold a corner of the blanket over my calves to serve as a small fragment of comfort. "I didn't mean to wake you up."

"That's alright. Here, I'll let you have more of the blanket," he stands up and sets the other half of the blanket over my legs, effectively turning me into some sort of human burrito.

"Aren't you cold?" I ask as he returns to a sitting position at the base of the tree. He shakes his head, and folds his hands across his lap, leaning his head back against the tree.

"Well I'm going to try and catch some sleep," I say as my eyelids flutter shut. "Can you wake me up at eleven? Finnick's party starts then, and I need a ride."

"Sure." I feel something soft press against the top of my head for a second, or was I imagining it? A fingertip? Maybe it was just the wind. Perhaps a leaf. It was probably a leaf…

* * *

A series of rings jolts me awake, and I rub my eyes with the backs of my hands. I glance down at my phone and realize that Johanna had called me several times up until now, 10:47 PM.

"Why didn't you wake me up?" I mutter to Peeta after a brief yawn.

"You looked like you weren't having a nightmare, you looked so peaceful and…I didn't want to change that," he replies apologetically. I frown for a moment before answering my phone that had just chimed to life.

"Hello? Jo-"

"Katniss Everdeen, if you value your life, you better haul your ass to Finnick's in ten minutes or less. Where have you been anyway? I've been calling you for  _years_."

"Out and about, mostly with Peeta."

"Oh really? That's adorab-…wait. You're being completely serious, aren't you? You spent the last three hours with Peeta?"

I sigh audibly. "Yes, a whole three hours in the district park." It sounds so ridiculous once I admit it and I feel a faint blush creep up to my cheeks. I glance sideways at Peeta who seems to be smiling at something, but his gaze is directed straight in front of him. "So why did you call?"

"Well you know Finnick's having a hella wild party over here, woop woop. And because  _I'm_  a good friend, I actually showed up early," I roll my eyes at least twice. "But there's a certain someone here that was looking for you. Apparently he called a few times too, but we all know you're fantastic at answering your phone."

"Hey I was doing something-" the receiver beeps as Johanna hangs up. "…else. And you, Johanna Mason, are fantastic and holding conversations on the phone." I grumble as I scroll through my missed calls (at least ten of them) and notice that in between bold red "JOHANNA M."s, there was one "GALE H."

"Hello, Gale?" I asked tentatively. Peeta glances down at me and I respond with a dismissive head shake.

"Hey yo Katnissss, waddup? I know you're friends with Finn and all but, hey girl, get this. You know Marvel Dawson? Yeah you know him right? Riiiiiiight?" Was Gale drunk too? "You should come here, come on over here to his  _sick ass_  party." And that was all the confirmation I needed.

"I think I'll let you go get wasted all alone. Oh wait no, you have Cashmere, that's right. By the way, I think she might be stealing glances at other guys," Peeta groans in mock annoyance and lightly punches me in the shoulder. I stick my tongue out at him and resume my conversation with Gale. "Get a grip on her, will you?"

"Hey hey Catnip, I have an idea, how about I go to Finnick's too? Then we could all be together! You'd have your friends and I'd have you, and maybe Cashmere too. Oh and, get this – maybe we could even be uh… Boyfriend and girlfriend, yeah!" Gale was completely wasted and it took all of my conscious effort to stop my arm from launching my phone at the tree.

"Gale we went over this  _several_  times, at least while you were sober. Nothing is ever going to happen between us."

"Awww but it would be so fun! We could do all those cute couple things." They say a drunken mind speaks a sober heart and I'm eternally grateful that I've never had a drop of alcohol. "We could watch movies and hold hands and… mmppfh." His words are cut off by something that sounds a little too similarly to a makeout session. I drop the phone from my face and end the call. I can feel Peeta's curious gaze burning into the back of my head, but I just unravel myself from the blanket and stand up.

"So Johanna called and asked, no,  _told_  me to go to Finnicks in a couple minutes," I muse. Peeta steps off the blanket to help me fold it into a small bundle. I wrap my arms around the pillow-like object, "Do you think you could take me to my house before heading there? It's high time for me to change out of this dress." Peeta happily agrees before trekking off to the small parking lot.

* * *

"I'll wait in the car," Peeta suggests as he kills the engine in my driveway.

"You can come in, my baby sister might be home and she…Actually knows how socialize," I mutter as I open the door. He weighs my offer for a moment before stepping out himself. I walk inside my home to find Prim snoozing on an armchair and a trifold poster propped against the armrest of the chair. I carefully slide my shoes off my feet and motion for Peeta to do the same.

"Help yourself to some food if you want," I instruct before walking over to nudge Prim's shoulder.

"Katniss?" She asks groggily, wiping the sleep away from her eyes.

"Hi little duck," I greet her with a small hug. "You're back early."

She nods into my shoulder and returns my hug with her two small, frail arms. "Who's that?" her muted question tickles against my ear, and I hear a quiet, deep chuckle from somewhere behind me. Prim pushes herself off of me and stares straight into my eyes, "Katniss, you know that mom said you weren't allowed to bring boys home without her consent." Peeta's chuckle explodes into fits of laughter, and I don't know who I want to smack first.

"Prim, this is Peeta Mellark. Peeta, this is Prim, my little sister," I say with a sigh. Peeta walks over and extends his hand in greeting. Prim looks thoroughly confused, but returns the shake without comment. "I'll be up in my room for a few minutes, and then we'll be off to Finnick's," I announce. I ascend the carpeted staircase and wriggle my way out of my dress, relishing in the much freer range of movement. I don't own an extensive amount of clothes, but a sudden shopping trip with Madge prior to the dance had doubled the size of my wardrobe. I leaf through various shirts and pants before settling on a boat neck t-shirt and a pair of denim capris.

I return to the living room to see Prim and Peeta flipping through various infomercials on our small television set. Prim had taken the knitted throw off of the armchair and draped it across herself, while Peeta sprawled himself across at least two of the three cushions on the couch. He was still wearing his dress shirt and vest from the dance, and looked so ridiculous in that position that I cover my mouth to stifle my laughter.

"Ahem," I cough once I compose myself, "shall we get going?" Peeta straightens himself up and walks toward the front door. Prim's tiny mouth spreads into a gaping yawn, and she turns off the T.V. before rearranging the throw.

"Prim, if you're tired you should get some sleep for the night. I'll try not to wake you up when I come back," I call out over my shoulder. I hear a small "have fun" before closing the front door behind me.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew! Chapter 2 is out, and I'm not entirely sure exactly how many chapters remain. But I hope you enjoyed this, and as always, feedback is greatly appreciated!
> 
> Until next time!  
> -Axis


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